


Throw It All Away (cause I’m nothing if I don’t have you)

by Madd4the24



Category: GOT7, Kpop - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Challenge Response, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Falling In Love, JB is and Emotional Ball of Angst, Jackson is a Good Friend, M/M, Opposites Attract, Organized Crime, Original Character Death(s), Past Abuse, Past Torture, Romance, Some Foul Language because Jackson is Jackson, alternative universe, awkward boys being awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7174394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madd4the24/pseuds/Madd4the24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JB had known what his future would be from the moment his older brother had drawn his last breath. Burdened by his father’s impossible expectations, and no love for the crime syndicate considered family, JB resigned himself to unhappiness. At least until BamBam came into his life, bringing with him a real glimpse of freedom, of happiness, and one very real chance at love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of the two stories I wrote for the GOT7 Santa gift-a-thon this past year on AFF. I absolutely felt a lot more comfortable writing my Jackson/Mark fic, than this story, but I hope it doesn't show. The giftee requested a JB/BamBam contemporary story, and because I was pitchhitting for an author who dropped out, I was kind of thrown into the pairing. That said, I have never written this pairing before, I almost always write Markson, and to be frank, JB and BamBam are probably my least favorite members of GOT7. But I absolutely tried my best to produce a story my giftee would like and enjoy reading. I never heard back from the giftee so I have no idea if the story was well recieved well. I mention this because I'd love some feedback from people who do like reading either of these characters or this pairing.
> 
> This story has been cleaned up since it was originally posted and edited a bit. 
> 
> Ans always I like to leave warnings to anyone sensative to specific topics or are triggered easily. There's some mention of torture in this story, though it's never shown or explicitly talked about. And there are moments of child abuse. JB is under age in this story, his father is abusive, even if it's far more subtle and unconventional, and to anyone who is sensative, this is the warning.
> 
> Now read on and leave me a comment if you're so inclined to do so.

“--said her name was Cecilia--said it all cute and shit like she knew she was the hottest girl in the club--and oh god did she have legs for days. I’m telling you, JB, she was wearing this short little sequined dress, stopped right here up on her thigh, and whenever she moved it would ride up and--”

Absently JB glanced out the car window as the buildings flashed by in a haze of luminescence and blurriness. The heater was on full blast, blocking out any of the wind chill from outside, but still JB shivered, distracted by his thoughts and more importantly, what was coming next.

“--she wrote her name on my hand with a sharpie. I didn’t know girls still did that! See it? You can still kind of see it here--Cecilia. And there’s the number.”

It always felt a bit like going to a funeral, when he made the once weekly trip down to see his father. And that felt wrong. What kind of son was apprehensive about seeing his father? It made him feel disloyal. Then again, he questioned, what kind of father made his son frightened to come see him?

“--then she told me she had a dick and asked if I wanted to suc--”

“What?” JB’s head snapped to Jackson, the boy sitting directly to his left, his best friend, and or all intents and purposes, his bodyguard.

It had always been a ridiculous notion to JB--not the needing a bodyguard part--but that Jackson fit the bill. But in a lot of ways, it did make sense. Jackson’s father and JB’s were old business associates and on again, off again friends. Jackson was sturdy, maybe even a little stocky, and had been training in several different styles of martial arts since he’d been old enough to put on the uniform. Jackson’s family owned a debt to JB’s, and with that in mind, all the pieces had simply fallen into place. So for the past three years, since Jackson had finally shot up a last couple inches and put on fifteen pounds of muscle, he’d been JB’s shadow.

It wasn’t so bad, having a best friend for a bodyguard. He knew he had Jackson’s ear, and he also had confidentially with him. Jackson, JB was absolutely certain, would never betray him, not even to his father, and that meant more to JB than anything else in the world.

Having a strong shoulder to lean on, and someone to openly express his worries to, was invaluable.

These days JB felt like he had a lot of worries.

“I was just checking to see if you were actually listening.” Jackson gave a toothy grin. “It didn’t look like it.”

JB straightened up a little in his seat. “You were telling me about Cecilia. Some French girl you met at a club last week? One who apparently has a dick.”

Jackson barked out a laugh and confessed, “Okay, she doesn’t have a dick.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I checked. But fess up, you weren’t really paying attention.” A second later Jackson looked a lot more somber. “Something on your mind?”

JB looked away from him, back to the street where he could mark their progress and see how much closer they were. He was also intimately aware of the ears listening in the front of the car. There really was no one else he could trust, especially not from the men his father had on his payroll.

“Just thinking,” JB mumbled.

“About Cecilia’s hot friend Madeline?”

Ah, the redhead. Several days ago when JB and Jackson had spent a few hours at the club they were patrons to the most frequently, Jackson had been enamored by a sweet, tiny looking girl that filled out her dress too well for him to resist. JB had watched Jackson flirt terribly with her for half an hour before she allowed him to buy her a drink, and an hour more before she wrote her number on his hand. She’d been with a group of girls on vacation to Korea, and one of them had been a particularly pretty red head that Jackson swore up and down had eyes for JB.

JB wasn’t particularly interested. He wasn’t like Jackson who spent most of his time, at least not the time spent focused on his job, trying his best to pick up girls and going through them like underwear. JB didn’t care for girls much at all. It was a hot bed of discourse with his father, who was aware, at least ever since he’d walked in on JB making out with the President of Korea’s nephew.

Admittedly, it probably had a lot more to do with the boy in question, and not the fact so much that he was a boy.

But still, JB knew his father had high hopes that his attraction to men was a passing fancy--and something that would pass quickly.

From the moment JB had felt the rough, strong hands of another boy on his skin, he’d known it wasn’t something that was going to pass.

“No,” JB told Jackson. “I’m not thinking about Madeline.”

Jackson shrugged. “Well, they’re going to be in town for a couple more days. Tell me if you’re interested.”

It shamed JB a little to know he hadn’t even told Jackson, his best friend, where his preferences lay. Jackson, he knew, wouldn’t judge him, and would guard his secret until JB was ready for it not to be one anymore. But it was one more thing that Jackson would have to shoulder, and that wasn’t something JB wanted to do to him. Jackson was already too loyal, too self sacrificing, and too good to him.

Quietly, for JB’s ears only, Jackson said, “You don’t have to worry about your father. Who knows if he’ll even be here.”

It was a tradition of sorts in their family, family being everyone in his father’s organization of any outstanding merit, that they met once a week at the steak house that JB’s father had brought his mother to for their first date twenty years ago. They’d made the steak house, a ridiculously expensive restaurant, their place. And JB’s father had kept it going even after she’d died.

But it was true, sometimes JB’s father couldn’t make the tradition. He made it less and less now. And that left JB to sit the head of the table, like the authoritarian his father expected him to be some day, and dole out critiques while the men around him fawned him with compliments.

It made JB a little sick.

He wasn’t suited for the life, he’d known it for the better part of a decade. And yet he was too much of a coward to do much of anything.

So he went to the dinners. He sat to his father’s right. He was admonished and lectured and made a fool of--all in the name of tough love--and then he went home afterwards, if only to feel sorry for himself.

It was all quite pathetic, really.

And ultimately it made him unhappy.

“He’ll be there,” JB said, more sure than he’d ever been. His father had been out of the country for three weeks, leaving most of the day to day operations to JB’s uncle. JB’s uncle was incredibly proficient at maintaining things smoothly and without issue, but JB’s father was an absolute control freak, and now that he was back in the country there was no way he’d be missing an opportunity to look over things himself.

That meant his tongue would be sharp and unforgiving.

Jackson’s shoulder brushed his own. “Then look at it this way,” he said still quiet. “He’ll be gone again soon. He’s always gone soon. And your uncle lets you to do what you want.”

His uncle thought he was an idiot underachiever. 

There was a power struggle brewing, that much was certain. It would be a long, long time before JB’s father was willing to step aside, barring any unfortunate incidences. But when he did, JB was the direct heir. It was no secret that JB’s uncle was better at the job, knew more and had more experience, but more importantly he was charismatic and well liked. There’d be a major power struggle when the time came, if JB didn’t start to plant his feet in the sand soon.

He didn’t want to, that was the problem. He’d have been more than happy to let his uncle take complete control and be done with it. If it was an option.

Before too long the car rolled to a stop and JB had only seconds to brace himself before the car door was opening, the frigid night air slapping him in the face.

Gracefully, and with too many eyes watching him, JB extracted himself from the car, straightening his jacket and smoothing a hand through his hair. Behind him he saw Jackson clamor out of the car, decidedly less smoothly, his jacket parting to flash his handgun to anyone who might be watching. JB had a pistol of his own strapped to his leg, hidden beneath his slacks, but Jackson was the better shot. Jackson had already saved his life with the gun he kept in his jacket.

The restaurant was blissfully warm when JB passed through the front doors being held open for him. He walked directly through the main dinning area, head held high as even more eyes turned to him, and moved specifically towards the staircase that led up to the second floor.

A friendly smile was waiting for him at the base of it.

Against the poor mood he was in, JB smiled back, even so much as offering the smallest of greeting with his hand.

More boisterously Jackson called out, “Yo! Junior!”

Often JB wondered if his uncle found him a fool simply because he lacked the motivation to dedicate himself to a life he found didn’t agree with him in the slightest. Or maybe it had to do with JB’s cousin. Junior was the son JB knew he should have been. Tall and athletic, Junior was a perfect specimen of masculinity. He was also focused and smart, driven and ambitious. If JB thought his cousin had only one flaw, it was that through it all he’d somehow managed to retain some of his gentleness. Junior was less cruel than anyone else would have been in his position, and often people tried to take advantage of that.

JB had seen Junior put someone down for questioning him. It seemed a rarity, but Junior was more than capable.

JB had never killed anyone. And god willing, no matter how unrealistic the thought was, he never would.

“Hi, cousin,” Junior greeted, moving to climb the stairs with JB. 

“Junior,” JB returned.

Junior really was perfect, absolutely perfect to inherit when JB’s father retired. And there was only one problem, one that absolutely barred that from ever happening. No one in their family, and no one on the streets for that matter, would ever accept a bastard as the head of the family. And with Junior’s father staunchly married to a woman who was not Junior’s mother, something that had been a mutually beneficial marriage than any other type, it wasn’t likely that Junior would be validated in any fashion, any time soon.

It was a real shame, too. Because Junior was what the family needed, and JB was what they would get.

“Is he here?” JB asked, already feeling a little winded between the stairs and his proximity to his father. “Upstairs?” His own eyes lifted to the stop of the stairs where he could see Junior’s own bodyguard watching them carefully. Yugyeom was younger than JB thought was appropriate for the situation, but also brutal and violent and an absolute terror. He had a reputation for enjoying brute physicality when it came to altercations, and JB knew for a fact Yugyeom had killed a man with his bare hands before.

Junior and Yugyeom were an odd kind of ying and yang that didn’t really make sense upon first glance. But all that mattered to JB was that Yugyeom kept Junior breathing. Junior wasn’t the heir, he could never be the heir, but he was a target all the same, especially considering he was JB’s uncle’s only child, and ranked impossibly high within the family. 

Junior shot JB a look of sympathy. “He’s waiting for you. You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

JB snorted, “I’ve spent my entire life disappointing him. What’s five minutes more?”

The entire second floor was theirs, reserved specifically for their dinners which could take the entire night at times. More than once dinner had taken all night, long into the morning when the sun began to rise. Those were JB’s least favorite.

And when JB entered the room completely, he could see his father at the head of the table, JB’s uncle to the man’s left, and JB’s own chair open to the right. Various men, and even a sprinkling of women, were scattered around, talking to each other in low voices. Near the windows and the exits men in suits were stationed, eyes watching sharply, and Jackson joined them without pause.

When he was near enough, JB bowed lowly to his father and held the angle, waiting for the word to straighten up, waiting for when his father would deem he’d been shown enough respect.

His father’s deep, angry voice rumbled out, “You’re late.”

JB hid his wince well. “There was traffic. We came as quickly as we could.”

It was at least another half minute before his father barked out, “Sit down.”

JB slunk his way into his seat as quickly as he could, noting that Junior was moving at light speed as well. Overall Junior was well liked, especially by JB’s father. But even he could draw ire from time to time, and it was never good to be the one doing that.

Drinks were served first, strong soju, imported American beer, and a variety of wines that JB had no part of. Once he’d drunk himself in an embarrassing mess when he was twelve. And never again since.

“Your uncle tells me you’ve been lax in attending important functions.”

JB’s fingers tapped against the tall glass of water in front of him as he looked to his uncle. The smug bastard was whispering to JB’s father again, something so low that JB couldn’t hear. But he was more than likely telling the man how Junior had been excelling, while JB had been avoiding.

“You mean making the rounds to rough up our local constituents? How could I have forgotten? What could I have been thinking? Extortion is my favorite extra curricular activity.”

He should have known better. His mouth got him into trouble all the time, and still after so many years, he’d never quite learned his lesson. So when his father’s hand slammed against the side of his face, making his teeth rattle, and causing the metallic taste of blood to stain his mouth, he was stunned, but not surprised.

“You will not,” his father thundered, getting to his feet, silence falling around them, “show such blatant disrespect to me, nor to our family!”

JB bit down the retort that was on his tongue. 

“Your flippant comments are inexcusable,” his father continued. “And you shame me with them.”

Across the table he met Junior’s wide, frantic eyes. Apologize, his cousin mouthed towards him, along with a desperate look. Apologize and save yourself.

“Father,” JB coughed out, using his nearby napkin to wipe blood from his split lip. He’d also bitten the inside of his cheek when the hit had come, but that would have to wait until later. “I apologize. It isn’t my intent to be disrespectful to you or this family.”

Slowly his father sunk back into his chair, draining the last of the soju in his cup.

“It pains me to have such a shameful son,” his father said wearily. “Such a pathetic heir.”

JB felt a flush of familiar embarrassment. 

JB felt his father’s gaze heavy and suffocating on him as the man said, “I spare you because you are all I have. And because unlike the disrespect you show me, I show respect in return for the woman who’s blood flows through your veins.”

JB’s eyes settled on the plate in front of him. It was as close to being disowned as his father could manage, without making it official. And it was hurtful. He and his father had never really gotten along. They’d always been too different, with JB taking after his mother, and his father unable to accept that. Things had only gotten worse when she’d died, and JB had finally started to understand how little he wanted the life that was set in front of him.

“Uncle,” Junior spoke up, clearing his throat. “It’s so nice to have you back. How was Kyoto?”

JB felt immense gratitude to his cousin who was so skillfully directing the conversation away from him and what had just transpired.

Things seemed to lighten a bit, much to JB’s relief, as the night went on. He was mostly overlooked by his father, with only fleeting glances set his way of a disapproving nature. The meat that came to them, thick, juicy cuts of beef that were enough to feed some families for months, was delicious as always. But JB’s stomach was knotted up, and he couldn’t properly enjoy the meal.

More bottles of soju were coming out by the time JB felt a meaty, strong hand grip his arm and tighten painfully. His eyes jerked over to his father who always commanded the attention of the room. He was so different from JB who was lanky and a little awkward, and who was more happy to blend in.

“Listen to me,” his father said, yanking him close and growling almost like a wolf would. JB felt himself tense up as his father gripped him hard enough to bruise. “I am finished with your dismissive actions. You are the future of this family, no matter how pathetic of one, and I will not allow you to infect this family with your cowardice.”

“Father,” JB choked out.

“You will take things seriously. You will live up to being my progeny. And you will not make me regret allowing you the freedom that you’ve had thus far. Shut your mouth and open your eyes. There is no more time for games. Either you sink or you swim, but I won’t have such a disrespectful coward sharing my name, and I will beat the insubordination out of you like I would a child, if necessary.” 

The grip on his arm tightened again, nails digging into his skin, and causing flashes of hot pain to scald their way up his arm. JB wanted to cry out. He wanted to beg for his father to stop. But any show of weakness, any want for mercy, would only further compel his father.

“I’m sorry,” JB gasped out.

“Sorry?” his father demanded.

Nails bit deeper into JB’s skin and he corrected, “I hear you. I understand. I’ll change.”

“See that you do,” his father rumbled out. “You are not replaceable, unfortunately. But I will break you, if need be, to build you back up.”

His father’s grip lifted from his arm a moment later and JB sucked in air through his teeth. Hand shaking he placed his napkin on the table in front of him and asked, “M--may I be excused?”

He barely waited for his father’s approval before he was on unsteady feet, stumbling for the door. It was too hot, he needed fresh air, and he had to get away from the man who’d been so scary JB had wet the bed until he was eleven.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson demanded, falling into step behind him, an angry look on his face. “What did he say to you?”

Of course Jackson hadn’t heard, JB realized. Most of the people in the room hadn’t. But the look on his face probably said everything. JB had never been very good at hiding what he was feeling. 

“JB!” JB crashed down the side stairs ,the ones primarily used by the service staff, and into the small bathroom that regular customers downstairs used. JB braced his hands on the sink and bowed over it, his arm throbbing and his heart pounding.

“JB,” Jackson said comfortingly. He put a cool hand on the back of JB’s neck, and it was such an intimate gesture that JB nearly fell into it.

“I just need a second,” JB said, turning to look at him. He gave Jackson an encouraging look. “Can you give me a second. I need to catch my breath … I need to … I just need a second alone.”

Jackson gnawed down on his bottom lip and offered, “You can tell me what he said. You know I would never--”

“I know,” JB interrupted. “But Jackson, I need a second--alone. Can you go back upstairs and let Junior know our plans still hold for tomorrow? And by the time you get back down here, I’ll be okay.” He clenched the sides of the sink. “I’m always eventually okay.”

Sourly Jackson pushed back on the door, a sure sign that he was giving in, even if he didn’t like it. He told JB, “You always manage to convince yourself you’re fine, JB. That doesn’t meant you really are.” Jackson gave him a warning look. “I’ll go up and tell Junior. You stay here. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

JB nodded to him and when the door was swinging closed behind Jackson, he leaned forward to splash water on his face.

He looked a mess. Staring at himself in the mirror he realized how utterly pathetic he did look. Maybe his father was right. He looked like a little lost boy, with eyes tinted red, too pale features, and a weakness that was all too obvious to anyone who looked at him. How could he ever expect to keep the family afloat after his father was gone? How could he give everything to something he didn’t believe in?

Suddenly the air in the bathroom was too thick, just like it had been in the room upstairs.

Five minuets. Jackson would be back in five minutes. That was more than enough time to suck in a couple breaths of fresh air and then make it back to the bathroom.

“Sir?” the doorman questioned when JB strode past him. “Should I call for your car?”

JB brushed him off with the wave of a hand, trying to shrug deeper into his jacket.

Standing out front of the restaurant, no matter how far into his father’s territory it was, was a bad idea. So he cut around the side, to a nearby alleyway, and with a feeling of relief, took several deep breaths. He leaned his back against he mortar of the building and closed his eyes.

A sense of calmness was just starting to settle over him when a nearby door banged open. JB righted himself completely, holding his posture firmly until he realized it was just the door from a nearby take-out noodle house opening. And coming out into the alleyway was a small form that JB almost both mistook for a girl and a child.

It was neither. But it was abundantly clear to JB how he’d made the mistake. The person coming his direction, towards the dumpster to his left, was petite in stature, with narrow hips, a light way of walking, and smooth, moonlight lit skin. 

He wasn’t JB’s type at all. JB preferred bigger boys, ones who where sturdy and could tug him around a bit. JB wasn’t sure what that said about him. But regardless, there was something attractive about the face that was drawing ever closer. He might even use the word ethereal. Because with small but smooth features, and bright eyes, there was no denying the boy in the work apron, dragging trash towards him, was pretty.

Beautiful.

For the first time ever, JB learned that boys could be beautiful.

Their eyes locked, and for just a heartbeat’s time, JB felt something--something he hadn’t ever really felt before.

A little cautiously, the boy asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” JB responded, suddenly aware of how wet his eyes were. It made him feel anger towards himself. His father’s words hurt him all the time, but he rarely let them bring him to tears.

“Are you sure? Because you--”

JB snapped out angrily, “I said I was fine. Don’t you have garbage to throw away?”

The boy froze, shock laced through is features.

JB felt horrible. The words had come out so maliciously and so easily, more of a defense mechanism than anything else, and in response to the self shame he felt.

Then the beautiful face in front of him twisted into something more firm, more strong, and the boy barked out, “I’d love to, but some pompous asshole is blocking the way.”

JB’s jaw dropped open a bit. “Who do you think you are?” JB demanded, fully unable to comprehend the words that had come his direction. No one ever spoke to him like that. No one said anything bad to him at all, aside from his uncle and father. People were typically scared of him, or more scared of what his family was capable of. Even if they were faking it, they were always polite.

It had been years since JB had been openly insulted. And it stung.

He continued, “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah,” he boy responded in a nonchalant way, miming throwing the bag of garbage at him. “I told you, you’re the pompous asshole blocking the garbage can.”

JB’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re the backwater, insignificant ant cleaning up after people.”

A lethal looking grin cut across the boy’s face. “The backwater insignificant ant cleaning up after people and making an honest living, actually earning his paycheck.” The smile deepened. “Not asking his daddy for handouts and freeloading.”

JB suspected this boy, whoever he was, knew exactly who he was.

He was moving to respond, another insult on the tip of his tongue when at the end of the alley, a dark SUV screeched to a halt. Its sudden arrival had JB frowning. He’d been gone almost the full five minutes that Jackson had allotted him, but there was no reason for him to be picked up already. 

Several men exited the SUV and JB’s stomach sank. He certainly didn’t know all his father’s men, there were simply too many of them and the faces tended to blur together after a while. But all the men his father trusted to be around him? He knew those. And none of the men moving towards him quickly were familiar.

Fearful for the boy who looked just as confused as JB, he snapped, “Get back inside the noodle house. Get back inside now.” He was confident they were here for him. People always came for him eventually, and currently he was exposed and without protection. If they had any luck in the world, the men wouldn’t even bother with the boy. Not if he made a run for it right now. “I’m serious--”

“I take it they’re not your men?”

That only solidified to JB that this boy, whoever he was, did know who JB was. Or at least who JB’s father was.

“No,” JB said calmly, taking a step back. In a minute more he was going to turn and flee, as soon as he was sure the boy was going to be safe. JB couldn’t see any more people hurt because of him. He couldn’t take that compounding guilt. “And I don’t think they’re here for a friendly chat.”

The men were nearly upon them as the boy demanded, “They’re going to hurt you?”

JB wondered why he saw fear on the boy’s face. Not fear for himself, but fear for JB. The kind of care and compassion JB was seeing from him was both confusing, but also a bit tantalizing.

“I imagine so.”

He’d been kidnapped before. He’d been beaten. He’d nearly died. He knew what came next.

Unexpectedly warmth enveloped JB’s hand. He traced the feeling to the boy who’d darted to his side and taken his hand in a firm but not uncomfortable grip.

“Can you run?”

JB reeled back a little. What kind of question was that? “Of course I can ru--”

Before he could finish the boy was moving, dragging JB with him, and they were running at top speed. JB heard the men shout behind him, but most of that was lost on him as he and the boy dove their way into the noodle house, into its kitchen, and through to the main dinning room.

A sharp, female voice gave a shrill demand and JB heard the boy call over his shoulder, “Sorry Auntie! It’s an emergency! Don’t tell them where we went!”

But JB could hardly concentrate. It was taking everything in him to keep his feet going as they flew through the open front door, spilling out onto the main street. Cars whizzed by them and JB breathed in deep to get the right amount of air to ask just what the boy thought he was doing. Messing with the kind of men that JB’s father worried about, it was no game.

“This way!” the boy shouted, and then they were running again, swerving around parked cars, cutting through large groups of people, and then jetting down countless side streets, alleyways, and over walking bridges so much that JB was getting lost and dizzy.

But the whole while the boy didn’t let go of his hand, and it felt good.

They must have run a mile, maybe two, in countless directions, through puddles of standing rainwater, and against the howling wind.

They ran until their chests were heaving and they couldn’t run anymore.

Then JB found himself being manhandled by someone a head shorter than him, twenty pounds lighter, and with the appearance of being delicate. He was pushed into a narrow space between buildings, his shoulders hitting the wall hard. The boy crowded into him, warm and supple, but also more imposing than JB thought he could possible be.

And they waited.

Around them cars drove by, people walked on, and there was no sign of the men giving chase.

JB would have held his breath, if he hadn’t needed to catch it from all the running.

They could have stood there, pressed against each other in the cold of the night, for hours. At least JB could have. But finally he recognized the absurdity of the situation and pushed at the shorter boy, forcing him to step back.

This time JB got a much better look at him as he struggled to catch his breath. There was a bright floodlight down the alleyway, and when the boy took a step back to run a hand through his hair, JB had more of a chance to observe him.

He’d been right on the nose about how small the boy was. Compact. He was smaller than boys typically were, and it was a little unsettling. But as for being fragile or breakable? That didn’t appear to be the case. He was sturdy on his feet, legs braced an even amount apart from his hips, and his underneath the work shirt that he wore, JB could see the barest hint of muscle definition. 

This boy wasn’t a wafting flower in the wind.

He was more like a mirage in a desert, appearing one thing in one moment, and something much more in the next.

And the more JB looked at him, the more attractive he became.

But still crazy, and JB demanded from him, “What’s wrong with you? I told you to run!”

Eyes narrowing, the boy laughed out wryly, “Why yes, you’re welcome for saving you from a bunch of guys who’d probably do really bad things to you, like selling you back to your dad in pieces. It was nothing to risk my life. I was happy to!”

JB snapped, “That’s what I’m talking about! You don’t know those guys. You don’t know what they’re capable of. They saw you, they saw you face, and now they’re going to be looking for you. You should have just turned around and minded your own business.”

The boy surprised JB by surging back into his personal space, telling him, “Not everyone on the planet is like you. We don’t all overlook people we consider unworthy of our time.”

JB reeled back a little, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” the boy sighed out, hands in his hair once more. He said more calmly, “I couldn’t just walk away. I’m not that kind of person.”

Things were settling down between them, so JB said, “My name is Jaebum. What’s yours?”

He had to admit, it was kind of thrilling meeting someone new. His father and Jackson both vetted heavily the people he came in contact with. He rarely got to meet new people--interesting people. It seemed like he barely got to have regular conversations anymore.

“Kunpimook Bhuwakul. And everyone knows who you are.”

At the name JB’s eyes were widening. “What did you say your name was?”

The boy sighed as if he were talking to an idiot. JB got the feeling he should have felt irritated at it. “I said my name is Kunpimook Bhuwakul. But if that’s too complicated for you, all my friends cal me BamBam.”

Slowly JB repeated, “BamBam.”

The boy--BamBam, moved to the edge of the alleyway and peered out it. JB heard him call back, “I think we lost them. Or maybe Auntie beat them to death--she’s awfully territorial of her kitchen.” He had a grin on his face as he turned back to JB. “It took me a whole month of working there to even be allowed to take the garbage out in the kitchen. Those guys might have been signing their own death warrants going in there.”

Impulsively, or maybe just instinctively, JB found himself smiling back. It was such an odd sensation, made only odder when he realized it was only that way because it had been so long since there had been anything to smile about.

It was something unbelievable. It felt foolish, but in truth, the rush from running from his father’s enemies, and racing through the streets of Seoul, had made him feel free. Freedom wasn’t something he often experienced. But he had, with BamBam. And now there was laughter bubbling up in him as he admitted, “What just happened--that was …fun.”

He half expected BamBam to swing on him, because what JB now considered fun had been dangerous and scary.

But instead a more full smile bloomed on BamBam’s face, making him look even more pretty, and JB wondered if the feeling in his stomach was the same one Jackson felt whenever a pretty girl finally decided to give him the time or day. Or her phone number.

In a deeper voice than he normally had, BamBam rumbled out, “It was a total ‘come with me if you want to live’ moment.”

JB asked, “You like the Terminator movies?”

“I love all movies,” BamBam said.

JB just liked anything he could use as an escape.

Silence fell back over them as BamBam looked out once more onto the street, keeping watch again.

JB, shivering into his jacket, something he’d barely remembered to grab as he’d gone out the door, waited.

“Yeah,” BamBam said for a final time. “I’m sure we weren’t followed. We can head back now.”

JB shook his head. “I mean it about those guys. They might have seen your face. They certainly know where you work. Don’t go back to that place right now if you can help it. They’ll get run out of the area soon enough, but going back right now is a bad thing to risk. You don’t know what they’ll do if they catch you.”

The scar that ran under his chin, down his chest, and curved around his belly, burned at the words. It was a psychological burn, one that was onset by horrible memories and the echo in his mind of his mother’s dying scream. But it burned all the same.

And it made him seriously contemplate his stupidity. For all his father was to him, starting and ending at feared dictator, the man did keep him safe. And Jackson always watched his back now. Without them around JB was alone, exposed, and on his own. It was a chilling and frightening thought when it came down to it.

“Call someone to come pick you up,” BamBam said with a nod, his own hands fisted in the apron he wore. JB realized immediately that BamBam hadn’t had time to grab a jacket. His thin, short sleeved white shirt was barely any kind of protection from the weather, and he didn’t have much body heat to go around either.

“You got a phone?” JB asked. His own cell was perched on the edge of the table he’d eaten dinner at.

“Got gum.”

JB let out a puff of breath that went white, then dissipated. “I guess I’ll just hang out here then. For a couple of hours.” And that was what he’d wanted anyway, wasn’t it? Air? Space? But a second later he felt guilty. Jackson and the others would be out looking for him before long. It wasn’t right to make them worry, or keep them out in the cold. The responsible thing was to find a phone immediately and contact Jackson.

Once more BamBam gave him a look of irritation towards his stupidity. “We can’t stay out here. It’s too cold.”

JB craned his head around to look at his surroundings. “Do you know where we are? I’m not sure, especially now that it’s night.”

The confidence on BamBam’s face was comforting. As were his words, “Yeah, I think I know where we are. Let’s head back.”

It felt as if JB’s legs were permanently stuck to the floor. His shoes wouldn’t budge no matter how hard to tried to move them, and he felt a panicked sensation when he thought about going back. He didn’t want to go back. Not to his father’s oppressive, controlling hand, and his scheming uncle. Not even Junior and Jackson made him want to go back. He was more content to just stay there in the alley, maybe freeze to death, and damn the consequences.

He hadn’t known he was so far to his limit of endurance until that very moment.

It must have shown on his faced, because BamBam gave serious pause, and then a more calculating look was sent his way.

Voice going thin, JB urged, “You just go ahead. I’ll be there in a second.” Panic was creeping up on him a little at the idea of losing himself to his father’s expectations and heavy hand.

“You …” BamBam broke off and shook his head.

“Seriously,” JB said. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

BamBam took such a deep breath, and let out such an exhale, that he was enveloped in a white cloud for several seconds. JB wondered what he was thinking. He also wondered why his eyes couldn’t pull away from BamBam’s slim but red lips.

“I have a better idea,” BamBam said. “You have you wallet with you?”

JB nodded. He could feel it in his back pocket, right where he’d left it. “Yeah. Why?”

Curiously, BamBam added, “You like music? Pizza? Soda?”

“Who doesn’t?” JB asked. And it was more than that for him. JB coveted few things, protected even fewer, and allowed himself to truly love so little. But music? Music he felt in him. He felt it in his heart, in his soul, and everywhere in between.

BamBam motioned for JB to follow him. “We need to get a cab.”

JB had been in a cab once before, with his mother when he’d been little, back when such things had been possible. He remembered the weird thrill of what a cab represented, so different from being driven around by a man who was paid to keep an eye on him, more than anything else.

He and BamBam climbed into a cab fifteen minutes later, near frozen and desperate to warm their fingers. JB was barely paying attention as BamBam gave the cabbie directions. He was only aware of them heading away from where Jackson was, away from where JB’s responsibilities were, and off towards something unknown and exciting.

“Is it a surprise?” JB asked as the cab drove on.

“Nah,” BamBam laughed. “My friend Youngjae’s parents own this really cool restaurant. Friday nights they turn it into the best place to go see live music. That’s where we’re going. Sunggyu’s band is supposed to be playing tonight. We’ve got enough time that we can catch them.”

They went further from the epicenter of Seoul than JB had ever been before in his life. And the cab ended up dropping them in front of a set of stairs that led down into a complicated complex of rooms and hallways. Even from the street JB could hear the vibrations of music seeping up to the ground floor. And suddenly the cold air didn’t feel so cold.

“So who’s this Sunggyu?” JB asked as he and BamBam counted out their money evenly to split the cab fare. “He has a band?”

BamBam an affirmative nod. “Sunggyu’s going to be a star. He’s got a great voice, writes all his own music, and his rock band is amazing. You know, he almost went out and auditioned to be an idol. That would have been something, him in one of those synchronized boy groups. But hey, wait ‘till you hear him properly. Youngjae’s parents have been letting the band play here for almost a year. Then they finally got heard by the right person. I think they’re getting a contract offer soon. Come on.”

JB felt a bit like a puppy following after BamBam, but it was an adventure, and he was happy to have it.

They had to pass through one set of heavy doors and then JB’s ears were exploding with the sounds of heavy guitars, bass, steady drums, and smooth vocals. His eyes adjusted quickly to the more dim light, and he was able to get a good view of the entire room. There was a stage far left, with four boys playing the obvious tail end of a song, an almost obscene amount of people already clapping their approval, and then there was BamBam.

BamBam, who’s face was lit up like he’d finally found something truly worth smiling for, and who in an unexpected second, reached back for JB to grab his hand once more and tug him into the fray.

BamBam, who made JB’s heard ache.

In the very best way.

“This way, JB,” BamBam said, and then he looked back at JB suddenly like he’d made a slipup of some kind. JB recalled he’d introduced himself by his full name, the name his father used and the teachers at school did. Only his friends were allowed to call him JB.

Instead of making things awkward, he tried to press on, insisting, “Lead on, BamBam.”

The band was calling for a fifteen minute break on the stage as BamBam stopped in front of a table with two boys and a huge pizza in front of them.

“This is Youngjae,” BamBam introduced JB to an incredibly handsome guy. But for some reason, despite how undeniably attractive Youngjae was, with the kind of features that should have had girls falling at his feet, JB felt nothing. At least nothing when he compared Youngjae to BamBam.

Though it wasn’t even BamBam’s cute face that made JB feel such attraction to him. It had a lot more to do with the way BamBam stood his ground with JB. JB liked not being able to get away with things with him, and the verbal sparring they got into, and how BamBam had witty comments to go at a moment’s notice.

He also liked BamBam’s smile an awful lot.

“BamBam,” the other boy said, a concerned look on his face. “Do you know who your friend is?”

JB held his breath. The other boy, who looked more nervous than anything else, was staring hard.

BamBam, as if he was unconcerned with his friend’s words, or maybe who JB was, continued on, “You probably don’t know Youngjae because he goes to the Fine Arts Academy. And the guy next to him is Mark. He just came to South Korea this year with his family. He’s up at the International school until he gets a better grasp on the language.”

JB had thought his words sounded a little choppy, a little unsure.

“Guys,” BamBam said, indicating for JB to sit at the nearby chair. “This is JB. Be nice, okay?”

Youngjae and Mark shared a look between them , then Youngjae said, “We’re always nice.”

More than a little awkwardly, JB gave them each a respectful nod. “Thanks for having me.”

BamBam cleared his throat and Mark nudged the pizza pan towards JB. “Want some pizza?”

Something broke between them, broke the tension, and JB grinned wide. “I love pizza.”


	2. Chapter Two

What transpired over the next hour was unlike anything JB had ever experienced in his life. For one brief second in his life, nothing mattered but being true to himself, and enjoying good company. And after experiencing it, JB wasn’t certain he could go back to a life without it.

Because his spirit felt lifted, listening to an amazing live band play songs that resonated deep in him. He gorged himself on pizza, the warm, gooey kind that was replenished so quickly he ate past the point of being full. And he talked. He talked and he talked. He talked to Youngjae about his photography, and laughed with Mark when the American transplant started telling him about the crazy music scene in the States.

There was an easy feeling between them, as jokes passed in a fluid way, and memories were shared, and in the warmth of the venue, JB was able to say the things he wanted and not carry an ounce of fear.

That was the best part. No fear.

No, wait, JB took it all back. The best part was how people kept pouring in, forcing JB and BamBam to scoot closer together. For a majority of the hour JB could feel BamBam’s warm, strong thigh pressed up against his.

And when BamBam’s fingers brushed over his more than once, JB wondered if he was reading into the situation, or if maybe there was something to the way BamBam was looking at him.

With warmth and kindness in his eyes.

And like maybe he could feel the connection between them that JB did.

After an hour Sunggyu’s band took another break, and BamBam leaned over to whisper in JB’s ear, I’m going to get another drink. You want a coke?”

JB gave a nod, feeling a little dizzy. He’d felt BamBam’s mouth so close to his ear, and it had thrown him.

BamBam had only been gone a half second before Youngjae’s handsome face swung towards JB and he demanded, “Exactly what are you doing here? What are you doing with BamBam?”

Taken aback, JB felt flustered as he said, “I don’t know what you’re--”

“Cut the bullshit,” Youngjae snapped, suddenly looking a lot more dangerous than JB had ever imagined he could.

As a counterbalance of sorts, Mark, in a much softer voice, said, “We know who you are. More importantly, we know who your father is. Everyone does. So I think there’s some validity to what Youngjae is asking you. Why are you here? Why are you near BamBam?”

JB looked between them once more, then admitted, “I was in trouble. He helped get me out of it, and then we just kind of ended up here.”

“You mean you dragged him into your trouble,” Youngjae accused.

“No, I…”

Bluntly, Youngjae said, “You’re going to get him hurt. Or god, you’re going to get worse done to him. What you do, what your father does, and the trouble you bring with you, it’s the kind of thing that gets innocent people like BamBam killed. And I am not going to let you get my friend killed because he’s too nice and tried to help you out.”

Like a crushing blow, he heard Mark say, “It’s pretty dark in here, Im Jaebum, but I’m not blind. I know what I’ve been seeing from you for the past hour, as far as BamBam is concerned.”

The implication was heavy in the air.

“I just …” JB shuttered a little.

“You’re going to get him killed,” Youngjae said again. “You’re going to drag him into your world, and he doesn’t have any place there. He’s just a good son who came to Korea to study and earn money to send back to his family. He has a good head on his shoulders and an amazing heart. And frankly everything your family touches, turns to shit. You want to ruin his life? You want to do that? Are you as big an asshole as everyone says you are?”

There was burning in JB’s eyes as he said simply, “I just wanted five minutes. I just wanted five minutes to breathe.” And then BamBam had brought him here, where he’d had the time of his life doing something so simple as listening to music and eating pizza. And nothing would ever compare to it.

Gently, Mark suggested, “You should leave now. We’ll tell him you had to go and that’ll be the end of it.”

In a raw confession, JB told them, “I’ve never met someone like him before.”

Youngjae burst out laughing, and Mark winced.

“What?” JB demanded from them. “What’s so damned funny?”

“You really are an egotistical asshole,” Youngjae said in an amazed way. “Wow. I didn’t think it was possible for a person to be this oblivious and have this big of a superiority complex.”

“Go,” Mark urged. “Don’t drag him into this, and don’t do this to yourself. You’re from two completely different worlds, and you’re two utterly incompatible people. Don’t ruin either of your lives.”

He was out of his seat and to the door before any of them could say another word. And as he climbed the steps up to the street level, he was hurt by the truthfulness of the words he’d heard.

They really weren’t wrong.

Who was he to have anything to do with BamBam? His father was the head of the Im family, Seoul’s biggest organized crime branch. He was waist deep in violence, and anger, and terrible, terrible behavior. He’d wade deeper into the waters of crime before the end of the year. His family killed people, embezzled, extorted, and were everything JB didn’t want to be. But he was still a part of them.

And who was BamBam? According to Mark and Youngjae he was an honest, hard working student. He was trying to better himself with his education, and sent money home to his family. BamBam was the kind of person who helped out a complete stranger, and then called him on his bullshit. BamBam was funny and interesting and best of all, an apt representation of freedom. 

BamBam was everything JB wasn’t, and could never be.

It wasn’t fair, but the more JB thought about it, the more he understood Mark and Youngjae trying to run him off. If he had someone like BamBam, he’d do anything to protect him too, especially from an obvious threat.

It was the cold, he told himself, making his nose run. That was why he was sniffling pathetically as he walked along, looking for the first cab he could find. It was time to go back to his life, anyway. He’d had a great vacation, a great moment of seeing what it would be like to have control of his life, but that fantasy was gone. It was time to go back to reality.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even hear the person who came up behind him until he was being wrenched around, almost taken off his feet. And all to meet the very angry and frustrated gaze of BamBam.

“What’s wrong with you!” the shorter male demanded. There was a furious tone to his voice. “There are people out there looking to hurt you! You can’t just go waltzing off by yourself, especially without telling anyone.”

JB laughed out, “There have been people looking to hurt me since I was born. They killed my mom. They killed my brother. And one day, they’re probably going to kill me.” He sniffled again, feeling desperate and lost. “Just go home now, BamBam. It’s probably safe now, but anything is safer than you being around me.”

He expected BamBam to yell at him. He expected the boy to tell him how rude he was being, or ridiculous, or just yell to vent some frustration. 

He wasn’t expecting BamBam to yank him down into a firm hug, pressing their bodies together and making JB gasp.

It was startling, but certainly not unwanted.

And when he finally came to his senses, JB hugged back. He wrapped his arms around BamBam’s lithe body and tried to share their body heat.

“Let’s get some coffee,” BamBam decided.

“Coffee?” JB asked, confused.

BamBam nodded. “There’s a café open late just around the corner. Let’s go there. Because if I go back to Youngjae and Mark I’m going to kill them for whatever they said to you.”

The confusion on JB’s face only deepened.

BamBam took JB’s hand in his own and pulled him along. “I’m not stupid, you realize? I saw them talking to you from across the room. And then you got upset and left. It’s not rocket science. They’re good friends, but they’re also under the impression that I need them to make choices for me.”

“They weren’t wrong,” JB said sadly as he allowed BamBam to lead him on. “I’m putting you in danger every second you’re near me.” And if there was one thing he couldn’t stand in the world, just once, it would be the idea of being responsible for BamBam being hurt in some way.

“And I could get hit by a bus crossing the street tomorrow, especially with the way they drive in this city. You’re missing the point. The point is that I make my own way, I make my own choices, and I take the risks I want to take. Now shut up and come with me. We’re getting coffee.”

The café was mostly empty, with only one barista on duty, but an impressive menu to order from. And in some rare blessing of luck, the kind JB didn’t normally have, he and BamBam had their coffees, a sweet roll to share, and a window seat in under ten minutes.

“I really shouldn’t be eating more,” JB admitted, already feeling better. “I think I ate at least half a pizza.”

BamBam laughed, “Including whatever you ate at that steak house.”

JB made a face. “I didn’t eat much of anything there. I never have an appetite when my father is around.”

In an observant tone, BamBam remarked, “It sounds like you guys don’t get along.”

JB picked off a piece of the sweet roll situated between them. “He wants me to be something I’m not sure I can be, or even want to be for that matter. He takes his frustration out of me a lot.”

Gently BamBam reached out with long, slim fingers. The pads of his fingers brushed over JB’s bottom lip and he asked, “That how you got this?”

His mouth going dry, JB was desperately aware of how easy it would be to part his mouth slightly and use his tongue to taste the skin of BamBam’s fingers. 

Without waiting for an answer, BamBam pressed, “Does he hit you a lot?”

JB said flatly, “Only when I deserve it.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because something akin to disappointment flashed across BamBam’s face as he stated, “No one deserves to be hit, especially by their parents, for anything ever.”

“Apparently you do when you’re bringing dishonor and shame to your family by simply existing.” JB looked down at the dark liquid of his coffee and stirred another packet of sugar into it. 

After a moment of being quiet, BamBam asked, “How do you do that?”

Wasn’t that a loaded question? By all rights he shouldn’t have been saying anything to anyone, let alone someone he didn’t really know, about his misgivings. But there was something honest about BamBam’s face, and all JB wanted to do was tell someone--anyone.

“You don’t really have to tell me,” BamBam hastened to add. “It’s your business, not mine.”

Shoulders slumping, JB told him, “My father wants me to be … hard like him--mean like him. But I’m just not. I guess I’m soft. I don’t want to devote my life to inner organization politics. I don’t want to shoot people when they betray me, hell, I don’t want people to have a reason to betray me. I don’t want to do dirty things, and pay off the police, and break the law. I don’t want to hurt people who can’t pay the so called protection money that my family charges. I don’t want to be that kind of person. I just don’t.”

Once he’d started talking, he found, the words just kept coming. He couldn’t get them to stop.

“It wasn’t even supposed to be me in this position,” JB said hoarsely. “I had an older brother. He was our father’s heir. It was him. Not me. Not ever me.”

BamBam reached for the hand JB had leveled up on the table and caught his wrist. BamBam’s thumb stroked over his pulse point and there was no way he couldn’t feel the thunderous way JB’s heartbeat was going.

BamBam ventured. “…he…”

With his free hand JB ripped his shirt down at the neckline, exposing the angry line of scar tissue. He spat out, “Most of the time it’s a game. You kidnap the other guy’s kid. You ransom his wife. It’s all a show of power. But once in a while, once or twice, it’s serious.”

He still saw flashes of knives in his dream. He heard his mother scream, saw his brother’s lifeless eyes, and when he woke up the bed would be wet and he would weep himself towards the morning hours.

What JB expected, and what people almost always gave, were looks of sympathy. He expected to hear a sorry, or misplaced feelings of guilt. 

He didn’t expect BamBam to hold his hand a little more securely and ask, “Well ,if that’s not what you want to be, then what do you want to?”

How incredible was it that he’d never really stopped to think that through?

“I guess,” JB said, swallowing past the lump in his throat, “I want to be normal. I want to go to school and not have my teachers give me good grades because they’re afraid of my family. I want to … to have a normal job, and live on my own, and I want to write.”

“Write?”

JB’s head dipped into a nod. “I like to write--song verses. I like composing, and structuring music. That’s what I’d study if I got to go to college.”

In an adorably cute way, BamBam leaned an elbow up on the table and said, “My parents expected me to go work in the city, like my siblings, live at home with them for the rest on my life, and be content. They were upset when they learned I wanted to go to school, especially in another county, and try to live my dream. But I made the decision I had to. I made a choice to put myself first in this situation, and I don’t regret it even in the least.”

JB scoffed, “Our situations aren’t the same.”

“Aren’t they?” BamBam pressed. “Sure, we’ve got different parts to our stories, but in the end we’re both two people who are caught between what’s expected of us and what we want for ourselves.” BamBam laughed, “And if I’d told my parents I wanted to study music theory they probably would have been relieved, at least compared to what I’m planning to study next year when I go to college.”

Frowning, JB asked, “What’s that?”

Wiggling his eyebrows, BamBam revealed, “I’m going to study fashion and design.” He pulled out his phone easily with one hand and flipped to his photos. Turning the phone around, JB could see countless items of clothing, meticulously designed, clearly hand sewn, and with an impeccable level of taste.

A little in awe, JB looked up from the phone to BamBam’s anxious face. He was quick to say, “These are awesome! You’re really talented!”

The corners of BamBam’s mouth turned upward. “Thanks. I mean, I think my parents started to get a clue pretty early when I was redesigning my sister’s clothing in second grade, and sewing them by third.”

It was JB’s turn to jerk BamBam a little closer. His coffee sloshed as his elbow bumped it, but it was inconsequential. He mumbled softly, “You’re very talented, and I think you’re going to be an amazing designer some day.”

“Yeah?” BamBam breathed out.

They were so close, so impossibly close, and for just once in his life JB felt brave. He felt like a hero, like a man, and like there was no fear attached to finally taking a chance on something. If anything was worth a chance, it was a shot at happiness with someone who made his stomach drop and his toes curl. 

It was a rushed thing, of JB being worried he’d end up backing out, more than being worried that BamBam wouldn’t be interested. JB tilted his head, pressed forward to cover the distance between them, and covered his mouth over BamBam’s.

The thrill of the moment overtook JB as his lips brushed BamBam’s, with the slightest hint of pressure but all the desperation in the world. It was happening, he realized. He was kissing the boy that had enamored him from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on him. His mouth was against BamBam’s in a way that he hoped indicated how badly he wanted him. 

It took a moment or two, full of JB’s mind running away with him over desperate thoughts of coming rejection, but then slowly, and with some uncertainty, BamBam began to kiss back.

Breathing out through his nose, JB dared to deepen the kiss, working his lips against BamBam’s delicately. He brought his hand up to cup the smaller boy’s jaw, the short nails on his fingers scratching gently against the late stubble that had started to sprout up on BamBam’s face.

It was a stupid thing, to be kissing a boy in plain sight, especially outside of his father’s territory, but it felt absolutely right and JB was getting braver with the idea of doing things for himself. 

He felt a slip of tongue, something so bold from BamBam JB certainly hadn’t seen it coming, and then JB was meeting the tentative muscle with his own.

JB’s hand slipped down BamBam’s neck in a smooth motion as their heavy kisses turned to something lighter, more like pecks and chaste brushes of lips. It felt like a perfect progression, like the crescendo had passed and noise was slowly dying down in a satisfying way.

“BamBam,” JB barely managed to gasp out. 

BamBam’s tongue was sweeping back in for more when a voice cleared behind them.

JB jerked back, common sense finally crashing back into him.

He took deep breath as he nodded an apology to the exacerbated looking barista. Then he looked back to BamBam and nearly had to kiss him again. BamBam looked so utterly gorgeous, breathing heavily himself, lips red and swollen from all their kissing, a hint of wetness in his eyes.

Carefully, BamBam asked, “Are you…do you …”

JB nodded nearly frantically. “I like boys. I’ve always liked boys.” He reminded himself again, it was not a passing phase. He was not going to suddenly wake up one morning and want to kiss a girl. In fact, he had a very good feeling that he wasn’t going to wake up and want to kiss anyone but BamBam. Especially if all their kisses were going to be so amazing.

Proverbial fireworks and all.

With a bright grin JB posed, “So you want to get out of here?” Their coffee was cold anyway, and he’d give up a million cups of coffee for BamBam. “Go somewhere and make out?” He added the last part playfully.

But something was wrong. He could see the wrongness on BamBam’s face.

“Or … not …”

“We can’t,” BamBam said, adverting his eyes, almost folding in on himself.

“Sorry,” JB said lowly. He offered in the way of an apology, “Am I coming on too strong? You don’t have to do anything with me you don’t want to. Kissing is nice, but I’m really happy to just be with you.”

“No,” Bambam said, and when he finally lifted his gaze there were tears in his eyes. “We can’t do this.” He gestured between them. “And we never should have in the first place.”

Voice at a whisper, JB confessed, “I really like you. And you kissed me back, so I think you like me too.”

“I can’t do this,“ BamBam said more firmly, releasing his grip on JB’s hand and physically scooting his chair back from the table. “Not with you.”

“Not with me?” JB reared back.

Looking frustrated, BamBam huffed out, “You really think I could give a part of myself like that to you? Why would I hurt myself like that?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” JB said, his voice pleading.

BamBam asked, “Wouldn’t it be stupid of me to give any part of myself to you? You’re Im Jaebum. You’re a crime lord’s son---his heir at that. And no matter how nice a night we’ve had, and no matter how much I might like you right now, we come from two different worlds. And come tomorrow, when I’m not the only option you have for companionship, you’ll throw me to the side without a second glance. That’s how people like you are.”

Furry welled up in JB. “People like me?”

“The privileged,” BamBam insisted. “The kind that don’t have to fight for anything, and don’t know how to anyway. I’m not saying you’re a bad person, and I’m not saying I don’t feel something for you. I’m saying I can’t be with someone like you. Not when I’m just a convenience for you.”

“How can you say that?” JB demanded. “You don’t even know me.”

“And you,” BamBam returned sadly, “don’t know me. That’s the problem.”

Desperately, JB asked, “I though that’s what we were doing now? Isn’t that what people do when they like each other? Get to know each other?”

“No, you don’t understand.” BamBam got to his feet. Thankfully the barista in the rear empty café had disappeared into the back, and no one else was paying them any attention. “You don’t know me, and you should. But you don’t, because you go through your whole life wrapped up in your own world, never giving other people the time of day. People that are insignificant to you, people that don’t matter to you, and that you don’t even see. That’s why before his day, you never saw me.”

Choking on the air in his lungs, JB asked, “When should I have seen you?”

“Every day,” BamBam said bitterly. “Because I sit two seats behind you in class. And I’m the one cleaning up after the students in the cafeteria. But you don’t see me, because I’m just the trash boy. I’m just someone that isn’t worthy of warranting your attention. I’m not a pretty girl, or a rich boy. I’m not loud, or special in any way. I’m not in your family, I don’t effect your family, and that makes me nothing to you.”

Terrified that even an ounce of BamBam’s words could be true, JB wracked his brain desperately for any important memories. But BamBam wasn’t in there at all. He wasn’t there once. Maybe they did share the same class, maybe BamBam did do custodial work at the school, but JB never saw him. 

“But more than that, there’s something else.”

Blinking back tears, JB told him, “I don’t know what to say. BamBam. I never … not on purpose …”

“You aren’t being true to yourself,” BamBam said firmly, giving JB a sad smile. “You can’t be honest with your father and true to yourself. I understand you being scared of him, and scared of an unknown future. But you’re eighteen now, JB. This is the moment. Sink or swim.”

Sink or swim. JB’s father had said that. It had sounded frightening back then. Now it only sounded sad.

“You need to figure you out,” BamBam suggested. “Do you want to inherit your father’s empire? Do you want to do what he does? Or do you want to risk losing everything and stay true to who you are? I think that’s something you have to decide very soon, and I can’t be around for that. I can’t, JB.”

If JB had ever wondered what it felt like to have his heart ripped to shreds, this was it. 

BamBam was gone a moment later, leaving behind his cold coffee and uneaten sweet roll.

JB folded his hands into his lap, biting back tears. BamBam was gone. He was gone and there was no way to bring him back or make him stay. Not that JB had a right to make any of that happen, because BamBam had been right. He was stuck between himself and his father. He was stuck between the future he was born to have, and the future he could take for himself.

And he didn’t have a clue what to do.

When he called Jackson half an hour later, using the café’s landline, he was even more unsure what the future would bring. 

“Are you okay?” Jackson demanded the second he arrived, coming to a screech in a black car, three more with him and countless of his father’s men. “JB?” Jackson looked caught between wanting to hug him and strangle him. JB kind of appreciated that.

“I’m fine,” JB assured, though that couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

Jackson wrangled a hand around the back of JB’s neck in an openly affectionate move that reeked of earlier that night, and lectured, “I told you to stay in that bathroom until I came back.”

The smallest of grins snuck up on JB’s face. “I just went out for a second, for some air.” And then he’d run into someone who’d changed his life in the span of minutes. 

“I was worried,” Jackson said as he led him to he car, and to the warmth inside. JB translated that to mean that Jackson had been out of his mind. “You jerk.” Jackson climbed in the car behind JB and slammed the door, a scowl on his face.

Slowly, and with a melancholy expression, JB assured him, “You didn’t have to worry. I was with someone.”

Jackson asked immediately. “Who? One of our men? And you need to explain right now why you didn’t get in contact with me immediately after you got away! JB, are you listening?”

JB closed his eyes and tipped his head back. So bright and fresh in his mind were the memories of his time with BamBam. They were precious memories, and with what he foresaw coming next, they were worth more than anything else in the world.

In the end it really only mattered to JB what Jackson thought. So laying in bed later that night, with Jackson sprawled out in the chair next to him, he asked, “Do you think it’s worse to be dishonest to your family, or dishonest to yourself?”

“Can I be dishonest to neither?”

JB was quiet for a moment, then said, “Maybe in a perfect world.”

Just after that Jackson was crowding on the bed with him, his face burying in JB’s shoulder as he slung an arm around his waist. “JB. Jaebum.”

“Haven’t you always known?” JB asked him. “Haven’t you always known this was coming?”

Jackson gave a silent nod that JB could feel against his skin.

JB wondered, “Will you come with me when I tell him tomorrow? Before he leaves for Beijing?”

Jackson’s voice was tight as he said, “You know I’ll always come with you.” As far as he could, of course. JB was under no false pretenses that as soon as he spoke to his father, and finally came clean, most things from his life that he enjoyed would disappear. Jackson included.

Instead of going to school the next day, instead of having to face the fact that BamBam did in fact sit two seats behind him, and clean up after the students during the lunch hours, JB went to see his father. He took the glass elevator up to the fifteenth floor of the red building that had been in his father’s name since JB could remember, with Jackson following after him if not a little morosely.

JB wondered if Jackson was thinking about what their life would be like an hour from then.

It was a testament to something that his father allowed him in. Sometimes he was turned away at the door, and other times left waiting practically forever. 

Jackson lingered by the door as JB moved further into the main room, coming to a stop and then bowing severely at a ninety degree angle. He held it until he heard his father remark, “I see you’re here to beg my forgiveness over what transpired the other day. Your stupidity and shortsightedness nearly lead to chaos within the family.”

JB raised his head, the oddest feeling of anticipation surging through him.

“Well?” his father demanded. 

Regaining his posture, JB took a deep breath and said, “I’ve always known I wasn’t your favorite son. It was painfully obvious even from when I wasn’t the only son.” The look of surprise on his father’s face was worth it, and JB pressed on, “I was okay with that. In the beginning, I was only the spare, not the heir, and I had mom. So it was okay.”

They said memories faded with time, and that eventually faces became blurry. But it wasn’t the case with JB. He still remembered every bit of her, from the way she looked, to her mannerisms, to the perfume she wore. With perfect clarity he recalled the white tips of her manicured nails, the baby blue heels that she loved more than any other of her shoes--even the absurdly expensive ones, and he remembered her voice. He could still hear it in his mind, soft and lulling, but also strong and forceful when angered. 

It was the memory of her, stark and clear, that kept him going most days.

“And I get it, you know,” JB huffed out. “You got stuck with me, the son that wasn’t primed since birth to inherit anything. You got stuck with the son who likes to be by himself a lot, and doesn’t care about the game of politics that this family engages in so well. You got a weak son to work with, a soft one. So before you go thinking I don’t understand, believe me, I do.”

“Jaebum,” his father said tightly.

“But as you consider all that,” JB told him, “also consider what happened to me. I went from being free to being a gilded bird in a cage. I went from having friends, doing what I wanted, and being happy, to what I am now. Father, I’m not meant for this. We’ve both known it from the start, and trying to push the issue is only going to lead this family down a bad path.”

His father, looking massive behind the oak desk that dominated the room, leaned forward with his fingers laced. “You forget there is no other option.”

Barking out a laugh, JB insisted, “You have Junior--Jinyoung. He’s far better at all this right now, than I will be in twenty years. That’s the truth.”

“The family would never accept him.”

JB questioned, “Because he’s a bastard? Because his parents aren’t married?” Head cocked, JB inquired, “Who says a bastard can’t be the head of this family? Don’t you make the rules? Aren’t you the absolute word on what happens in this family? Father, if you made him your heir, the others would have to accept it. And face it, it would make Uncle happy.”

His father’s huge hand slammed down on the desk, curled into a fist, and the man reminded loudly, “You are my heir! Regardless if I want or like that, it’s you!”

JB jumped a little, then collected himself. He could feel Jackson watching him as he said, “Someone important told me recently that this is the point in my life when I need to be honest with myself. I need to figure out what’s good for me, and I have make important, hard choices. This is the time in my life, father, when I get to be selfish and put myself first, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Excuse me?”

A smile on his face, JB revealed, “I like to write. I write a lot. I like music and I like writing music, and composing it too. I want to go to college and study music theory. I want to get a job and have an apartment, and rely on myself for once. I …I want to be normal.”

“You--” his father started.

JB cut him off quickly, as he never had before in his life. He told the man, “I’m making a choice now to be greedy and prioritize myself. I can’t be the thing you want me to be--the person you need me to be. Junior can, and he’d be good at it. But me? I can’t and I won’t. It’s up to you what happens to us afterwards, but I’m not going to be your heir anymore. I’m not going to have anything to do with the organization. And if you ever loved me even a little, you’ll support me as I go after my dreams. If you have any love at all in your heart for me, please, let me go and do what I want and be happy. Don’t trap me here. Don’t do that to me.”

His father’s face was utterly unreadable, utterly plain, and nervousness was starting to make JB’s skin crawl as he waited.

“Let you go?” his father asked.

JB nodded. “Let me go and make my own way. Sink or swim. Let me be a man. Don’t you think it’s time?”

In all actually, what happened next was probably supposed to be a punishment. It was probably something that was designed to make him rethink his choice to leave a life of luxury and fine things. Getting sent away was almost always a punishment. 

But JB had Jackson with him when he went. He had an opportunity to clear his mind, and he had the memory of BamBam that like his mother’s, was showing no sign of fading.

And for the moment, being banished to a rice farm in the middle of rural Korea, to wait out the remaining months of his senior year and the summer that came after, it was enough.

Less than a year later, though not by much, and with a completely different focus to his life, JB could honestly say he’d never been happier. Sure, folding clothes for six hours a day, after eight hours of class, and then going home to cook ramen poorly, wasn’t exactly a highlight, but he was certainly getting what he’d begged and pleaded for earlier. He was in complete control of his life, making his own choices, and without the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

He’d just set to work on a new display of merchandise, expertly arranging the shirts, when he hard the chime on the door jingle. He called over his shoulder, “Thank you for coming in! I’ll be with you in a moment!”

A soft and amused voice returned, “It’s okay. I’m not in a rush.”

JB jerked upright. He knew that voice.

Spinning around he could hardly believe his eyes as he took in the sight of BamBam. 

A year hadn’t done much to change JB. He was a little more tan, and a lot stronger, but aside from that, he seemed exactly the same. BamBam was a completely different story. His hair was dyed a darker shade than it had been before, and he’d shot up almost half a foot in height. Plus, he’d put on a little, much needed weight, and finished filling out. He looked firmer now, more sturdy, and even more confident.

His smile was the same though.

Tentatively JB smiled back. “What are you doing here?”

BamBam gripped the strap of the satchel that crossed his chest. “I heard you worked here. My roommate’s cousin is in your music program.” BamBam added more softly, “I was surprised to hear you were in college for music theory.”

There was only one other customer in the store, as it was getting very late in the night, and the customer didn’t seem for a second as if he needed assistance. That left JB’s attention to focus completely on BamBam.

Trying not to sound boastful, he said, “I’m studying what I want--doing what I want. I’ve got my own place. I pay my own bills. I’m … I finally figured out what was most important to me, and that ended up being my own happiness.”

BamBam trailed closer, asking, “Your father just … let you out like that?” There was something openly worried on BamBam’s face. “You disappeared from school and everyone thought the worst. I … I wasn’t sure …”

JB cracked a grin. “I confronted my father and let him know where I stood on my future. He sent me off to the country, to work on a rice farm, probably thinking I’d fold under the hard work and want to come back to him with a new sense of being humble. In actuality, working out there and getting to be independent, just made me want what I did more strongly. So he disowned me and ended up naming my much more reliable cousin, Junior, his heir apparent.”

Shocked, BamBam mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” JB insisted. “I think he didn’t do it to be malicious. In his own way, I think he was proud of me, and he just couldn’t say it. But if he didn’t disown me, I’d always have a target on my back. He disowned me so I could go off on my own and make my own way without having to look over my shoulder every second. I mean nothing to him, in those terms, so no one should have any interest in me.”

“But I’m here just in case!” Jackson called out. He was across the store, barely visible on a chair with his feet up on a display case that JB would get yelled at over if his boss saw. Jackson wasn’t paying them any mind, flicking through his manga book, but JB also knew better. Jackson was a master at looking like anything but the threat he was.

“That’s Jackson,” JB laughed out. “That’s my best friend, and he watches my back for me. Like he said, just in case.”

Getting to keep Jackson in his life, getting to keep him at all, had been the deciding factor for JB. It was that move, something that JB’s father hadn’t needed to do, that had convinced him his father was okay with him taking charge of his own life. His father giving Jackson to him spoke volumes of how the man truly felt about JB, even if he was unable to say the words.

Love was there, even if it was tough love, and that was all that mattered.

BamBam raised a hand towards him. “Nice to meet you.”

Curiously, JB asked, “But really, what are you doing here?” He had honestly thought he’d never see BamBam again. He was certain they’d shared a connection, and their brief makeout had been … the best of JB’s life. But BamBam had made himself clear when they’d parted, and JB had thought that would be the end of it.

“Honestly?” BamBam said with a huff. “The honest truth is that I’ve been an idiot. I was a jerk to you, too. You were going through a really hard time in your life, and I was meaner than I should have been. I made it seem like you deciding your future was something you could just do in an instance, and I was wrong to imply the things about your character that I did.”

“But you weren’t wrong,” JB shrugged.

BamBam insisted, “Still. I should have been more understanding. I should have been more patient. JB, I should have fought for you.”

JB stopped breathing. “What are you saying?”

“That I’ve been thinking about you nearly every day since that night,” BamBam revealed, moving to stand as close to him and two people could. “I’ve spent almost a year thinking about what an idiot I was to say those things, and to just walk out of your life like that. I let my emotions get the best of me, and not the good ones, and I made the wrong choice. I should have stayed and helped you, and I should have fought to have you. Because to me, JB, and what you made me feel that night, you’re worth fighting for.”

JB could feel the tears in his eyes and he couldn’t have cared less. “I thought I had to let you go, and maybe I did. I had to find myself. I had to get my life in order. I had to get myself right before I could think about anyone else.” He palmed at his eyes. “But I never moved on from what we had that night. I never moved on from you.”

“Oh, god,” Jackson wailed in a desperate kind of way, “just kiss each other already!”

JB laughed, preparing to apologize for Jackson’s bluntness. But that was pushed to the wayside as BamBam hooked an arm around the back of JB’s neck and pulled him down for a searing kiss.

It was a little like coming home, his lips finding BamBam’s. 

He pressed in, kissing deeper, trying to convey all that he’d been keeping cooped up inside since the last time they were together. He put his hands on BamBam’s waist, anchoring him closer, and just let himself feel. He desperately hoped they were feeling the same.

“Annnnddd that’s enough,” Jackson called out, tossing a pair of socks at JB’s head. The socks rebounded off just as BamBam smiled into their kiss, the two of them finally breaking apart.

“I’m off in half an hour,” JB said, his lips aching in a wonderful way. “That gives me enough time to clean the store, murder my previously indicated best friend, and shut everything down. Can I buy you dinner tonight?”

“That sounds great,” BamBam said.

JB nodded. “Then it’s a date.”


End file.
